


The One Where Rose is Sick

by goingtothetardis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Based off the Friends Episode: The One With Rachel's Sister, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Prompt Fic, Rose is sick, The Doctor takes care of her, tentoosday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: Rose is sick, but she'll do anything in her power to convince the Doctor that she's healthy.





	The One Where Rose is Sick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseAndBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAndBlue/gifts).



> One of my 800 Follower prompters gave me the prompt: Rose is sick and Tentoo takes care of her. 
> 
> Recently Lostinfic wrote a great Hardy x Hannah story about pies, and it was based off the Friends episode where Rachel and Chandler find cheesecakes outside their apartments. That got me thinking about Friends again, and I realized that it would be hilarious to write a fic based off the episode where Monica is sick and desperately tries to convince Chandler that she's not (and tries to get him into bed). So I did. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!! I posted it today in honor of Tentoo Day! (10/2)
> 
> Thanks to Caedmon for the beta.

“I’mb _not_ sick,” Rose protests, unbuttoning her blouse and kicking off her heels as she walks into their bedroom to change.

The Doctor follows behind her, trying to keep a smirk off his face. “But Rose, they sent you home from work, because you sound like–”

Rose turns around and glares at him. “Be _very_ careful how you finish that sentence.”

“Uh, well, you’re coughing. And you’ve used an entire box of tissue since yesterday. You’re _sick_.” Shuffling his feet, he tugs an earlobe and smiles at his wife. “But you look lovely.”

With a scowl in his direction, Rose huffs and removes the rest of her clothing, tossing it on a pile on the floor before stalking into their walk-in closet. “I’mb not sick. Now go away. I need to get ready for our date tonight.” Her statement is punctuated by a string of violent sneezes. 

With Rose safely out of his line of sight, the Doctor rolls his eyes in amused affection. “Yes, you’re _clearly_ in the prime of life. Healthy as an ox.” He sticks his head around the door and eyes his wife up and down, appreciating the view of her in sexy underpants and bra as she looks for something to wear. “Rose, what if we postponed our date until this weekend. Put on something comfortable, take a nap, and drink lots of fluids. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup, and we can watch that new movie you’ve been wanting to watch.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Doctor’s orders.”

Narrowing her eyes, Rose straightens up and slinks toward him. _Oh no._ He’s never been good at resisting Rose Tyler when she looks at him like she is now. Her eyes sparkle with a certain kind of stubborn determination, and she bites her bottom lip as if contemplating how best to break him. 

“Are you saying,” she says, sniffling loudly before continuing, “that you don’t want to get with this?” She presses her breasts against his chest and stands up to nibble on his ear. 

At least that’s what he thinks she means to do, but instead, she sneezes into his shoulder. 

The Doctor jumps away, looking at Rose with an expression of mild disgust. “You sneezed on me!”

“I’mb not sick!” Rose croaks, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. 

With a grimace, he gestures vaguely at Rose’s nose. “Yes, you are. You’re all… drippy.”

“It’s our anniversary, and nothing is going to stop me from going out with you and then shagging you rotten when we get home. And besides, I’mb perfectly healthy.” Her voice raises sharply at the end, and it’s enough to send her into a round of hacking coughs.

“While celebrating our anniversary with you sounds brilliant,” he leans forward to kiss Rose on the forehead, “I think you’d enjoy it more if you felt better. Really, Rose, it’s okay.”

Rose scrutinizes him for a moment and then sighs in defeat, her shoulders slumping forward. “Fine. We can watch the movie. But I’mb not sick. I’mb not tired. And later,” she runs her tongue along her bottom lip before biting the corner, “I’mb going to make you come so hard, they’ll hear you from New Earth.”

Despite her seductive promises, the accompanying sniffles do nothing to rouse the Doctor’s arousal. “You’re not sick, okay. I believe you, Rose.” He nods and reaches around his wife for her robe and helps pull it around her shoulders, tying it in front. With a hand on her low back, he gently nudges her out of the closet and down the hall, until they reach the living room. 

She flops back onto the couch with a long, suffering sigh, and immediately leans forward, overcome by a fit of coughing. Finally, red faced and exhausted, she reclines once more. The Doctor drapes a blanket over her legs before moving to the telly to set up the movie. 

When he turns around to tell Rose to enjoy the show, however, she’s already asleep. He smiles and walks to her side, tenderly tucking a few stray wisps of hair behind her ear. She’s warm under his touch, feverish and clammy, and with a soft whisper, he wishes her a good nap. 

He’d always wondered if he enjoy life on the slow path, and as it turns out, whether in sickness or in health, he very much does.

* * *

Rose wakes with a start, smacking her mouth at the uncomfortable sensation of having slept with her mouth open for a significant period of time. Her nose is so clogged she can’t breathe out of it, and she rolls over with a loud groan, trying to dislodge pressure in her sinuses.

 _Fine._ She’s sick. Properly sick. 

Her head throbs, and it feels like she’s been run over by a lorry. A big one. Multiple times. 

“Unnnngggghhhhhhhh,” she groans again. 

The Doctor’s smiling face pops up in front of hers. “Well, hello there, beautiful. Are you feeling better?”

Rose squints at him, pulling back slightly at his perky demeanor. “I’mb sick,” she says. 

“Ah, so you admit it!” he says with a smirk.

She throws a pillow at him. 

“Oi, now, Rose Tyler. That was uncalled for. I’m your carer. Is that how you want to treat someone taking care of you? I made you chamomile tea with honey (for your throat) and brought you a box of tissues. And some water. Drink up.”

Groggy and somewhat disoriented, Rose pushes herself up on the couch. “You’re a bit too sarcastic for a _‘carer’_.” She places heavy emphasis on the last word, then rolls her eyes, groaning once more when even that hurts. 

The Doctor hands her the tea, then sits down beside her, rubbing soft circles into her back. She leans into him, content in his embrace, and has to admit that being cared for so thoroughly by her husband has its benefits. 

“I’mb sorry I ruined our anniversary,” she says. “The dinner, at least. I’ll still blow your mind in bed, later.” She’s not quite sure if she’ll have the energy for it, but there’s a stubborn bit of her that doesn’t want to let the virus completely win what was supposed to be a very special day. Besides, her desire for the Doctor is never far from the surface.

Patting her on the back, the Doctor takes the empty mug out of her hands. “I’m not sure if you’re quite healthy enough for that. Being sick isn’t very… sexy. Don’t want to overexert yourself.” 

With a huff, Rose opens her mouth to protest but is interrupted by the impending sense of an oncoming sneeze. Grabbing a wad of tissues, she sneezes into them, then blows into the tissues. _Gross._ When she turns to the Doctor, he hands her a bottle of hand sanitizer. She scowls but squeezes a large dollop into her hand. 

After placing the mug on the table, the Doctor takes her hand. “Instead of going out for our anniversary,” he leans over to place a kiss on her temple, “I thought we’d do something here. Come’re.” He tugs her up and pulls her to the kitchen. 

The lights are off, and the table is covered with several lit candles. There’s a covered pot in the middle of the table, and sitting in the place settings are bowls and champagne flutes of what looks like… “Is that orange juice?” she asks, her heart melting at the thoughtfulness of her husband. It sparks a warm heat down low. 

“Orange juice and homemade chicken noodle soup! Just what the Doctor ordered.” He winks with a click of his tongue. 

“You’re daft,” she says with a smile. “But I love you.” Even now after several years, those words still resonate deeply within her soul. 

He smiles back. “And I love you.” 

They stare at each other for several long moments, each with a dopey grin plastered on their faces, and Rose wouldn’t have it any other way. Jackie always grouses about how “love sick” they are, even after all these years, but it’s not something they plan to “fix.” 

“So… Chicken noodle soup?” she asks.

Dinner is a quiet affair as they enjoy the soup, and at the end, Rose excuses herself to the loo. 

Despite her fatigue, she still feels a niggle of _want_ for the Doctor, and he seems to be adamantly against getting her in bed for anything other than sleep. After relieving herself and washing her hands, she opens the medicine cabinet, looking for something… _Ah!_ There it is. Rose removes her knickers and bra, leaving them hanging on a hook, throws her robe back on, and with a smirk, returns to the kitchen. 

“Doctor, will you help put this on?” He takes the bottle of Vicks Vaporub from her as she pulls open the top bit of her robe. 

His eyes narrow. “Absolutely not,” he says, pointing at her chest and wagging his finger. “I know exactly what you’re trying to do, and I’m not falling for it. You need _rest_ , Rose.”

She rolls her eyes. “I _know_. This helps me sleep. Makes my throat feel better. Please, Doctor?” Batting her eyelids at him, Rose knows he won’t be able to resist. 

Flicking his eyes between her face and chest, it looks like he’s about to give in, but then his eyes take on a steely glint of determination. “Nope, you’re trying to get me into bed, and I won’t take advantage of you when you’re sick.”

Rose tries to keep from smiling. “Fine. I’ll do it myself, then.” She plucks the bottle off the counter and begins slowly and methodically rubbing it onto her chest. It really does feel amazing. She closes her eyes and moans a bit, adding a few unnecessary sound effects, then cracks open an eye. The Doctor’s hand scratches the back of his neck, and his jaw hangs slack as he watches her rub in the ointment. His eyes are a bit glassy and somewhat fuckstruck, and she smirks. 

“This is turning you on, isn’t it?” she asks, trying not to laugh.

Meeting her gaze, he blushes, then sighs. “Yes.”

Smiling, now, Rose “accidentally” pulls the string on her robe and lets it fall open so he can see her naked body underneath. 

The Doctor takes a step toward her. “I suppose… I mean, it _is_ our anniversary… Would be a shame not to celebrate that.”

Rose nods in agreement. “Would be a right shame.”

He takes another step closer and reaches out, letting his hand rest on her hip, his thumb stroking lightly on her hip bone, sending a buzz of need tingling through her body. Much to her surprise, it clears some of the fog of sickness. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” he asks, giving her a wry grin that belies the heat in his gaze. 

“I do,” Rose answers, and taking his hand, turns to leads a very willing Doctor to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com!


End file.
